


snow in california

by sk4di



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Christmas, F/F, Fluff, give them a chance, yes I'm back writing these two and y'all cant stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sk4di/pseuds/sk4di
Summary: A Christmas tale about small towns and finding love.





	snow in california

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, readers!  
> As the ones who are familiar with my stories know, I always try to write for the holidays.  
> This one is a small Christmas story I've been wanting to write for a while.   
> The title comes from the Ariana Grande's song.  
> I hope you enjoy. xx

California was the destiny set in Aubrey Posen’s GPS.

Not the California you are thinking - the California The Mammas and Papas have been dreaming about, or the one that names the crazy hotel found by The Eagles - the other one. This California is not as popular as her West Coast counterpart, but for sure is a place with its own charm. This one is a small town in Connecticut and is so microscopic that it is surprising that the board computer was able to find it between all those woods.

This is the 22th year in a row in which California is going to have white Christmas. Someone sang “just make it snow in California” and their wish was attended. (Probably in the wrong place, though.) This information, being the first one that appeared as you googled that city’s name, was the second one Aubrey had.

The first one was that she had a contract in hands that should be signed by the Beale’s Christmas Tree Farm owner as soon as possible and that this property stayed inside the limits of California.

* * *

 

There are three facts about Aubrey that she is a little embarrassed about: 1) last year she had her hair dyed brown in an attempt to look more serious, 2) she never finished reading Moby Dick, and 3) she always feels sorry for the sellers of the properties that the company she works for buys.

The third one is the reason why she wasn’t responsible for looking for possibilities of expansion for the company, she was just a financial advisor. It was not exactly what she was planning to do with her business degree, but it paid well, and it wasn’t awful.

Until she decided to do Jacob a favor and driving to California, Connecticut to close his negotiation because he was going earlier home for Christmas. He would owe her one and it’s not like she had plans for the holiday, so she picked up her car and drove there to make Beale – whoever they were – sign those papers.

She could only hope that they wouldn’t cry over their land – it had happened before.

* * *

 

The Beale’s Christmas Tree Farm was a property localized a mile before the center of the town in an exit out of the highway that led there.

The gates were open, and she drove right into the property, knowing that if the car windows were open, she would be immersed in the characteristic smell of pine trees. The way had them on the both sides, decorating and fulfilling the view.

She parked the car the turned it off in front of an old manor. The white house made her wonder what kind of financial catastrophe a clan had to go through to allow a construction like that to look like someone just pulled it out of a swamp. It gave her chills as she imagined her beloved grandmother’s house in a similar state.

Snow was covering the roof and the lawn, making the outside of the house look even more dirty. The rain gutter was filled with snow just like the base of the windows of the upper roof.

Aubrey picked up her briefcase and walked her way to the house, stepping and marking the snow with her shoes. As she climbed the stairs to the porch, she hoped her business attire wasn’t too damaged by the seatbelt.

After two knocks on the door, someone opened it.

“Hello,” she was greeted with a smile.

“Good morning. I’m Aubrey Posen. You must be Mr. Beale. We talked on the phone,” she told the middle-aged man.

“Sure thing,” he said, too good humored for someone about to sell his farm for a price below its real worth. “Come in.”

The inside of the house was less deteriorated than its exterior. A long foyer led to a large living room. The walls could use a new painting and Aubrey is pretty sure some of the furniture could be sold for a considerable amount of money for antique stores. There were pictures on the walls and other pieces that gave the house personality, making it clash against the low-maintenance of the construction.

Aubrey could see that place in its prime years. Shining and new. With fancy furniture and rich people from the 1920’s there.

She sat in front of Mr. Beale in an old love seat. The old coffee table was the only thing between them and as she noticed that one of its legs was shamelessly replaced by another made with a different wood; she guessed price offered – even if it was an unfair one - couldn’t come in better time for the man.

“I brought the final contract for you to sign, Mr. Beale,” she said, opening her briefcase and taking out a few clipped pages.

He picked the pages and pushed down his glasses from his grey hair, adjusting it over his blue eyes.

Aubrey waited patiently as he read the pages, listening to the sounds of the house. There was an old clock ticking by a corner and someone approaching.

A young woman appeared. She had Mr. Beale eyes and a mane of red hair.

In that moment, Aubrey found the fourth fact about her she was embarrassed about: her breathing hitched as she saw Mr. Beale’s daughter for the first time.

“Hey kiddo,” he greeted. “This is Miss Posen, from the-“

“The guys that are stealing your farm,” she said coldly, approaching him.

Mr. Beale gave Aubrey an embarrassed smile. “Chloe, don’t be like that. You know why we are selling it.”

Chloe flopped down on the couch beside him.

“The business isn’t going well,” he said to Aubrey. “And we don’t have the money to keep up with the new technologies. You must know what I mean.”

Aubrey nodded. Being a small farmer must be difficult. There are people out there using billion-dollar machinery in their properties and devouring smaller farms, digesting and incorporating them into their production – like her boss.

“May I see it?” his daughter asked him.

Aubrey watched as she picked the contract in her hands. The redhead studied it cautiously, ran her eyes through the lines as if there was an enigma written between the lines.

Then she did it. She held the pages horizontally and wrecked them in the middle. Then put the pieces together and tore them apart again, allowing the ripped pieces to fall on the living room’s carpet.

“Chloe!” Mr. Beale exclaimed.

But the woman got up and disappeared before he could say anything else. Aubrey could hear her steps as she climbed furiously the stairs.

Aubrey didn’t try to pick up the pieces. She did nothing but look a them briefly. She really wished she had printed one more copy, just to be safe. She couldn’t even be mad at the girl, part of her also wanted to do the same to that contract.

“Miss Posen, I’m so sorry about this,” Mr. Beale said, looking sincere.

She shook it aside. “Don’t worry, do you have a printer? We can solve this in a matter of minutes,” Aubrey assured him.

As she finished the phrase, they heard a crash.

They craned their necks to look at the source and found a printer destroyed. It had felt from the floor above in the middle off the foyer. Chloe really wasn’t kidding about putting obstacles on the way of her father signing the contract.

Mr. Beale looked desperate and embarrassed, but not furious.

“She has been having a hard time after her mother passed away a few months ago,” he said. “They were so close. I think she feels like if we sell the farm, we’re selling the life we had here.”

“I can print them in the town,” Aubrey said, almost begging him to not say anything else.

She didn’t want to hear that sad story and she didn’t want to feel like intruding in that woman’s life. She didn’t want to have another reason to not want to make him sign that contract. It was easier if she had no idea that there were lives and feelings in that transaction.

“I’ll print them in the town and be back as soon as possible,” she said, gathering her briefcase.

She gave the broken printer one last look before leaving the house.

Jacob was owning her. A lot.

* * *

 

This is Stars Hollow, isn’t it? Aubrey asked herself as she parked her car by the Town Square.

Around it, you could see that there was no such a thing as rivalry in California. There was only see one grocery store, one hotel, one hardware store.

Aubrey left the car and walked to the movie theater across the street.

“A foreigner,” the guy said, looking down from the top of the ladder that he was using to replace the letters on the display of the movie theater as Aubrey asked him for a place where she could use a printer. “Bridgeport?”

She almost rolled her eyes at 1) can’t they just buy a digital display?, and 2) this guy probably watched too many far west movies.

“New York,” Aubrey answered, looking up as the guy climbed down the stairs holding two plastic made letters.

“Nice,” he said, smiling. “Then this one must be like home to you.” He pointed out to the display.

Home Alone 2: Lost in New Yo. He was holding the R and the K in his hands.

“I like the first one better,” Aubrey told him.

He looked disappointed. “We exhibited it last week. Full house.” He smiled.

Aubrey was dumbfounded with the idea that people in that town left their cozy homes to sit in a cold theater and watch a movie from the last century. Can’t they just pay for Netflix?

She nodded. She just wanted an information, she didn’t need to chat with a goofy small town guy about Macaulay Culkin movies.

“So, the printer…” she nudged.

“Turn left on the next street,” he pointed the way with the R letter. “There’s a record store there. They can help you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Jesse,” the guy said as if she had asked his name.

She hadn’t. The thought hadn’t even crossed her head.

Aubrey nodded anyway. “Thank you, Jesse. Have a nice day.” She walked in the direction he had pointed the R letter.

“I didn’t get your name,” Jesse said still with a goofy smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gone really soon,” she said before walking away.

* * *

 

Mitchell’s Record Store was anything you’d find in Williamsburg. It looked old, messy and charming and a little bit dusty. The only difference was that in Mitchell’s Record Store there wasn’t any hipster with ugly mustaches hanging around – because there wasn’t anyone at all.

“Hello?” Aubrey said as she opened the door and the little bell on the top of it rang.

There was no one behind the balcony what made the store look abandoned.

The door closed with a low clicking noise. LPs and CDs occupied the shelves in the store. Several genres, artists and decades of music were sharing space inside that small building in California. Aubrey felt hugged by music; it felt warm.

“Hi!”

Aubrey turned in the direction of the balcony.

A small alt girl was coming from the door behind it wearing a buttoned purple flannel and her hair was in a messy bun.

“Hi,” Aubrey answered back. “I’m from out of the city and I need to use a printer for an emergency. The guy from the movie theater told me I could find one here.”

“He did, huh?” she smirked in a fond way. She didn’t move.

Aubrey had no idea what to answer. “So, can I use it? It’s just a few pages. I can pay.”

“Sure,” she said. “Come in, I have one upstairs.”

Aubrey followed her through the door behind the balcony, a little worried about how she kept leaving her store on its own. (There was no robbery in this town?) They climbed a narrow path of stairs and Aubrey found herself in a floor with no intern walls. It was a music classroom, she recognized from her childhood. There was a dozen of chair in a corner and a piano and a few other instruments in other. The walls were decorated with colorful trebles and notes, making everything look a little childish.

“You can’t survive with a record store only in a town like this,” the woman said in the bottom of another path of stairs, and only then Aubrey realized she had stopped in the middle of the room to stare.

“Then you teach music,” Aubrey said.

She nodded. “Downstairs, Mitchell, that can sell you anything you want to hear. Upstairs, Beca, the one that hear your kids and their noises for you.” She started to climb up the stairs with Aubrey behind her.

“What about there?” Aubrey asked looking up.

The last floor was a home. There as an area near the stairs with desk with equipment Aubrey supposed was what you need to make music, a living room/kitchen and a bedroom area near the front windows.

“Here I do whatever I want,” she said.

She pointed Aubrey the printer beside the desk.

Aubrey printed another two copies of the contract directly from her phone through the printer’s Wi-Fi.

“Shit,” Beca exclaimed as she noticed the Beale name on the printed pages. “You’re the one buying Mr. Beale’s farm?”

“I’m only bringing the contract,” Aubrey said, holding the papers protectively. “I only work for them.”

The brunette looked at her suspiciously. “You can’t tell Chloe I printed that for you or she will freak out.”

Aubrey nodded. “She tore the original contract I brought this morning. I’m aware how careful I must be.”

* * *

 

After paying for the only Ace of Bases CD she still hadn’t, Aubrey left Mitchell’s Record Store and drove back to the Beale’s Christmas Tree Farm.

She grabbed her briefcase with the new contract and jumped out of her car, walking back into the house. As soon as stepped one foot into the porch, it happened.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Chloe yelled as she opened the door after the piece of plastic fell against Aubrey’s head.

Aubrey, who was fell on the top of the stairs, grumbled in pain. Was she just hit by God? Was God on the Beale’s side? Was she being punished for trying to make these people sign that contract?

“I’m fine,” she lied raising her hand to her head.

Somewhere in her cranium there was a pain, she just couldn’t identify where. Maybe because all of it was hurting and she could hear her blood pumping – what made Chloe’s voice distant and drowsy.

“Jeez,” Chloe said and crouched down to her side. She wiped snow out of Aubrey’s head and touched her forehead.

Aubrey tried to wiggle herself out of the redhead’s hand, but her head was still hurting. She could hear Chloe better now that she could feel the adrenaline levels lowering in her body.

“You’re bleeding,” Chloe said, her thumb running against Aubrey’s hairline, wiping snow tinted red away.

The blonde raised her hand and touched the spot where Chloe’s hand was. As she pulled her hand, she saw blood on her hand. That’s it, she was dying.

“Don’t panic, it’s just a small cut, I can see it,” Chloe told her.

Aubrey nodded. She wasn’t dying. For now.

“How do you feel?” Chloe asked her.

“I’m fine,” she repeated but this time she was telling the truth. The pain was bearable. “What was it?” she asked, looking up, expecting to see God smirking at her disgrace.

“This old rain gutter couldn’t stand the snow’s weight,” Chloe observed.

Aubrey looked at her side and saw a piece of broken plastic there. She looked up again and noticed the space it left on the extended piece. What are the chances of getting hit by the rain gutter of a house she only entered twice? It for sure had a lot more to do with the low maintenance the Beales kept on their home than with her luck.

“Let’s get inside,” Chloe said.

Aubrey accepted her helping hand and followed her back into the house. Chloe led her to a chair by the kitchen table and found a first-aid kit.

“I’m so sorry,” she said while as she went through the items in the box after pulling another chair and sitting in front of Aubrey.

“It’s alright. It’s not like it was your fault,” Aubrey said, flinching as Chloe cleaned the cut.

“No, not that,” the redhead said. “I was unnecessarily rude earlier. I know you are only doing your job.”

Chloe looked sincere. Her blue eyes were almost transparent and in an unusual thought, Aubrey decided she was seeing her soul. She watched Chloe’s face while she worked in cleaning her cut with interest until she got embarrassed with the possibility of being caught staring. She wanted to nod, to show Chloe that she was forgiven but didn’t want to make her task harder.

“I brought the new contract. It’s okay, he can sign now,” Aubrey said.

Chloe pulled back. She had a ball of cotton stained with some blood on her hand. “Dad is not here. He went to deliver trees in the neighbor town because Dave’s wife got into labor and he had to be there.” She carefully discarded it on the trash can.

Aubrey had no idea who Dave or his wife were. Yet, she felt compelled to say something as she was thankful Chloe hadn’t asked where she printed the contract. “Such a Christmas gift I would say.”

Chloe looked her in the eyes and smiled. “Yeah. Something like this.” Her smile disappeared. She started to cover Aubrey’s cut with a curative. “Dave will be jobless as soon as dad signs those papers,” she said after a few seconds.

She didn’t say it to be bitter. It sounded like a neutral commentary. Like something that must’ve been added, otherwise the first statement would never be right or sincere.

Again, Aubrey didn’t know David, his wife or their about to be born child, but she felt a wave of sympathy run through her body. “I’m sorry,” she said, without knowing to who it was directed.

Chloe dropped her hands from Aubrey’s face. She had finished her work.

“Don’t be. It’s not like it is your fault,” Chloe said to her.

It really wasn’t. But Aubrey wished she could fix it anyway.

* * *

 

That evening, Aubrey waited for Mr. Beale to come home until Chloe had to head back to the town to sell the trees in the grocery store’s parking lot. She had already accepted that she would have to spend the night in California by the time she offered Chloe a ride to the town.

As mentioned before, California only had one hotel at the time, and that sums up how Aubrey ended up in a room in Hollywood Inn during her stay in the town.

Her window had a view of the Town Square. All the stores around it were open and people were circulating around it as if there was nowhere else in the town for them to be. Snow was covering the lawn and Aubrey could see Beca organizing her choir of kids inside the bandstand.

She looked around her hotel room. Her mind formulated a phrase said by no one, ever: California’s only hotel is damp, cold and depressive.

In contrast, through the window, the heart of the town was pulsing, alive. The stores and people down there were like a living organism, organs complementing each other and make all of it function. Making California work, making California charming and beautiful.

She liked what she was seeing. She liked it too much.

She spotted the Beale’s Christmas Tree selling. The parking lot had fairy lights hanging over the trees and a wooden booth in a corner where she assumed stayed that cash. There were a few late buyers walking around looking for a perfect Christmas tree and Chloe was helping someone put one of their pine trees on top of a car.

The thought that with the farm being sold that small town would lose an organ stung.

She closed the curtains, done with that town for the night, but soon Beca’s choir started singing and she ended up falling asleep earlier than usual while listening to tone deaf kids singing Christmas carols.

 -

That was the worst night of sleep Aubrey had ever had and she used to go to a summer camp every summer until she was eleven.

“How’s your head?” Chloe asked Aubrey as she knocked on the Beales’ door next morning since the selling at the parking lot only opened at twelve.

Aubrey intuitively raised her hand to her cut. “It only hurts if I touch.”

“Then try to not get hit by falling things for now,” Chloe said with a grin.

“I’ll take the advice,” Aubrey said. “Is your father at home?”

Chloe frowned. “No. He had to help my uncle with his stables and ended up going there after he delivered the trees.”

Aubrey was sure she wasn’t going to leave that town until next year if things like that kept getting on the way of Mr. Beale signing up those papers. She thought about leaving them in Chloe’s hand and asking her to put on the mail after signed but she still couldn’t trust her with them after what she did yesterday. Furthermore, she didn’t want to half-do that favor; she had to do it right.

“Can you give me a call as soon as he comes back?” Aubrey laid gave her a business card.

“Sure thing,” Chloe answered and winked at her.

The Beale girl was just slightly too charming, and Aubrey couldn’t help but smile after she rolled her eyes at her.

* * *

 

Aubrey had no idea what to do with her time in California while she waited for Chloe’s call. She wasn’t going to her hotel room. She wouldn’t spend any willing time in that place with those fungus on its walls.

Then she wandered.

She watched Home Alone 2 in the movie theater with three bored teenagers that kept talking throughout the movie. At some point of the movie, Jesse joined her. (“I thought you’d be gone soon. Will you tell me your name now?”) She wasn’t really interested in chatting, but he was. He told her about how the movie theater has been passing on his family for decades and how he moved back after college to keep it up and trying to save the business.

She ate in a place called Cheesecake Palace that didn’t serve cheesecakes but served all kinds of pies you could think about.

She passed by Patricia’s Dance Studio in which she saw little girl dancing an odd choreography through the glass.

She found herself back at Mitchell’s Record Store. Beca was dismissing a class of kids around ten when she got there.

“You won’t believe me, but these are way worse than the four-year-old ones,” she told Aubrey. “What are you still doing here? Did Chloe wreck the contract again?”

“Mr. Beale had an emergency out of the city, I’m waiting for him to come back,” she said, looking around the titles on a shelf.

“And you spent your night at the marvelous Hollywood Inn?” Beca asked with a smirk.

Aubrey eyed her. “This was irony, right? I’ve been wandering this city all day and talking to no one how terrible that place is afraid that I’ll insult someone’s parents or grandparents. You people are all related.”

“Not me,” Beca said. “You can talk shit freely here.”

“Interesting,” Aubrey approached the balcony. “You are not the kind of person I would tag as a small-town-by-choice person.”

Beca shrugged. “For now, I am.”

Aubrey nodded. She liked that phrase. She liked the possibility of a change.

“And you? Big-town-by-choice?” Beca asked.

She smirked. “For now, I am.”

* * *

 

“Hello foreigner. Looking for a Christmas tree?” The Beale girl asked as Aubrey approached the parking lot.

She had a Charlie Brown in her arms and Aubrey tried to suppress her surprised face. Chloe had really strong arms.

“Do you think one of those can make my hotel room merrier?” Aubrey asked, her hands deep in her coat’s pocket.

That evening was colder than the one before, as if the weather had a calendar and knew what Christmas was supposed to feel like.

“Not enjoying the pleasures of Hollywood Inn?” Chloe smirked, as she attempted to put Charlie Brown in the back of a truck parked in front of the parking lot. Thank God, she was also being sarcastic.

“Let’s say I was expecting more of an establishment with that name,” Aubrey told her, giving her a hand with the tree.

“That’s what you deserve for trying to steal people’s home,” Chloe provoked. She slapped the side of the car twice and it drove away.

“Buying,” Aubrey stated. “I’m trying to buy you father’s farm.”

“Potatoes, potatoes.” Chloe shrugged but there was a smirk on her face. It was a light banter. She walked back into the parking lot with Aubrey on her heels. As she got to the balcony in the tent, she picked a paper cup and filled it from a thermic bottle. “This is for free, but since you are mean I’m not giving it to you.”

“Mean?” Aubrey asked, mild-amused with Chloe’s good humor. She leaned against the balcony.

“Yes, you are getting coal from Santa.” She sipped the apple cider.

“How old are we?” Aubrey asked but shook her head. “Are you alone here?”

“Yes, Benji already left and I’m already closing it,” she filled another paper cup with cider and slid it to Aubrey through the surface between them.

Aubrey gave it a look. It was warm, and it would be very welcome by her body.

“It’s organic,” Chloe told her, and she led the cup to her lips. “It’s made with our apples.”

Aubrey drank it. It tasted better than anything else containing apples that she had ever tasted. She felt like her body was being cleansed in some way and it was pretty sure it had a lot more to do with the temperature than with the fact that it was made with healthier apples. She had been eating all the wrong apples through her entire life, she thought.

“This is God’s nectar,” Aubrey said.

“Like in Percy Jackson.” Chloe said, excited.

“Who?” Aubrey asked back, confused.

“Dad is not back yet,” Chloe told her, ignoring her question and turning off the lights.

Aubrey nodded. “At least I had time to explore the town.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. “Oh really? Tell me about it.”

“It’s a very charming place.”

“We are,” Chloe nodded. “The good side of selling the farm is that we can buy a place around here.” She closed the gates and locked them.

Aubrey looked at her. The way Chloe said that phrase was so known to her. There was something in the way the syllables were put together that Aubrey knew, she just knew, she was trying to convince herself of that.

“But it’s not good enough,” Aubrey said without thinking twice.

Chloe looked up at her, stopping putting her gloves on. “No. It’s not.”

Aubrey looked down. She wanted to run. She felt embarrassed that she was not on the Beale’s side. She felt terrible for being part of the operation that was going to rip a part of that town out.

“Can I buy you dinner?” she blurted out.

“Big town girl is bored?” Chloe smirked.

Aubrey wasn’t bored. She just couldn’t stand being alone in that town with her own thoughts anymore. “Big town girl thinks small town girl could enjoy a nice dinner.”

“With you?”

“I don’t see anyone else inviting you out.”

“I don’t befriend the enemy,” Chloe said with another smirk.

She had to stop doing that for Aubrey’s sake.

“You should have let me bleed to death then.”

“That’s cruel. I should’ve killed you right there,” Chloe joked. She sighed. “You are paying. It’s historical reparation for destroying my life.”

That was another joke and Aubrey laughed, pretending that her actions didn’t made her feel like she was really doing that.

* * *

 

They had a peaceful dinner in a restaurant that Aubrey hadn’t entered yet. They talked about everything and nothing and Aubrey’s mind had to remind her that this wasn’t a date even if it felt or if she wished it was.

Aubrey found herself navigating easily the conversation and almost relaxing. Chloe had this laugh that started like a small fire and warmed everything and everyone around. She couldn’t believe a person like that existed.

Chloe suggested to give Aubrey a walk through the farm after dinner. Aubrey was uncertain about how good that idea was but found herself 1) wanting to spend more time with Chloe and 2) not wanting to go back to Hollywood Inn and decided to accept Chloe’s invite.

“I grew up here.” Chloe said as they walked through the farm. “It was wonderful. It feels terrible to leave it.”

It was the first time since they left the parking lot that they were addressing the reason why Aubrey was in California. Aubrey tensed up.

“My mom used to be light of this town,” Chloe said, kicking the snow on the ground. “Everyone loved her. I feel like the farm is the only place in which she is still alive.”

Aubrey had no idea what to say, so she just extended her hand to Chloe to take.

Chloe took it. And they walked like that in silence for a while.

“She is here, in every single one of these trees,” Chloe told Aubrey.

Aubrey wasn’t one for overly emotional or cheesy lines. But in the moment, as the cold wind blew against them and the trees danced with it, she believed in Chloe.

They walk back into the house, the chat lighter than before.

Suddenly they’re back to the house and the fairy lights in the porch are on, but most of the light in the house are out. Mr. Beale’s truck it’s still not there and Aubrey is not sure anymore if she wants it to be and give her a reason to go back home.

“Thank you for dinner,” Chloe says, as they step into the porch and pass past the spot where Aubrey got hit.

“Thank you for the company,” Aubrey said, allowing Chloe to lease her hand from hers.

Chloe leaned against the front door but didn’t open it. She just stared at the blonde with a small smile.

“I have many reasons to hate you and yet I can’t,” she said.

Aubrey chuckled. “Well, if you hadn’t torn my contract apart, you’d be able to spend the rest of your life hating on me.”

Chloe seemed thoughtful. “Or if the gutter hadn’t-” she stopped the sentence as she looked up.

Aubrey followed her look. A mistletoe vine was hanging from the door frame.

She knew she wanted to lean down and kiss Chloe. To touch her face and feel how soft her hair was. She wanted to drown in her smell and taste her lips. But she had to much self-control to concede to her own wishes.

Then she just stared at Chloe staring at her until the point she was sure Chloe wanted the same thing.

She lowered her head a little as Chloe also leaned in her direction and readied herself to not regret what she was about to do.

Maybe their foreheads were already touching when they heard the sound of the truck approaching and parking in front of the house. They jumped apart as the moment was broken and Mr. Posen got out of the car.

“Oh, hello Miss Posen,” Mr. Beale greeted as he approached. “I’m so sorry I kept you here all this time. I’m sure you’d want to be with your family.”

“We are still two days away from Christmas,” Aubrey said.

Mr. Beale nodded and looped an arm around his daughter. “I had these emergencies, I hope Chloe explained it to you.”

Aubrey looked at Chloe, who had her head low but her pink cheeks still visible. “She did, sir.”

He nodded. “Do you have the papers with you?”

“No, sir,” Aubrey answered. “May I bring them to you in the morning?”

“Sure, I’ll sign them first thing tomorrow. I won’t keep you here on Christmas’ eve,” he said, looking deeply sorry for his delay.

Aubrey nodded her heart heavy with the idea of leaving California tomorrow – leaving Chloe. “I’ll be back by the morning. Good night, Mr. Beale. Good night, Chloe.”

She drove away hoping that, for some kind of Christmas miracle, Mr. Beale would have another emergency to attend.

* * *

 

The idea woke Aubrey in the middle of that night. It was formed and delimited and only did so because her hotel room was crappy enough to never allow her to sleep deeply.

She slipped out of the bed in a hurry, put on her clothes and left Hollywood Inn. The streets were deserted and only the Christmas lights moved, sparked and danced in California. She entered her car and drove the way that in the past days she came to know very well.

Even if she had Chloe’s number, she would act in the exact same way. Okay, maybe not that part about throwing pebbles in her window because that was lame and overused in cheesy movies, but the part of running to her in the middle of the night, yes.

The pebbles burned her hands with cold because she was gloveless. She was glad her aim was good because out of sixteen, she hit twelve pebbles on the glass of Chloe’s window.

Then a head covered in red hair stuck out the window. Chloe frowned in confusion but as she looked down, she smiled with the vision of Aubrey.

“What are you doing?” Chloe asked with an amused face.

“Come down! I had an idea! And I can’t climb up this tree,” Aubrey pointed the tree beside her. “Meet me halfway, Chloe.” She was feeling euphoric with her idea.

Chloe didn’t climb the tree. She was an adult and opted for using the stairs. She opened the door putting her coat over her pajamas and walking to Aubrey. She tried to not make too much noise and only put on her boots on the stairs of the porch.

“My hotel room is crappy, have I told you that? And I can’t go to another one because the hotel is full and there’s no free market in this town.” Aubrey said as they met.

Chloe looked at her with a confused expression. “You came here to complain about your hotel room?”

“I came here to tell you that we can meet halfway,” Aubrey said excitedly.

“Alright,” Chloe said, uncertain. “What do you mean?”

“What if we turn the farm into a hotel?” Aubrey blurted out.

“What?”

“I would rather spend my stay here than in Hell In. It’s a little distant from the city but it doesn’t ruin the idea. Look at this place, Chloe. You more than anyone else knows how beautiful this is. We can’t let this be destroyed.”

“We?”

“We can partner up. I have the business education and some savings, and I can even get a nice loan, and you and your father have everything else.”

“What about your job?”

“They don’t have to know anything for now,” she said. “People back down on negotiations all the time.”

Chloe crossed her arms. “You really believe this could work?”

Aubrey shrugged. “We can try. I just- I just don’t think you should lose this too, Chloe.”

Chloe looked up. Aubrey had snowflakes accumulating on her lashes and hair. Her navy-blue coat looked black under the night and her shoulders were covered in snow. The redhead stepped closer and slipping her hand through Aubrey’s neck, brought her face down and kissed her on her chilly lips. Aubrey arms found their way around her waist and they kissed one, two, three times in that silent night.

Tomorrow they would sit and talk about business, and contracts, and loans and everything. Tomorrow. That night, all they did was embrace each other under the snow falling in California, Connecticut.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a rush and it's not as extense as I'd like it to be. But I hope it is still worth your time.  
> Thank you so much for reading.


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